If I am ever to have another pet, it shall be a dog. This evening my
wife and I went out for Thai food, of which there is always left overs.
While she went to choir practice, I returned home with tomorrow’s lunch;
planning to stick it in the fridge before burying my nose in a good book.
The kitchen Gods were having none of my plans, for as I inserted the
lovely container of chicken curry into the refrigerator, it jumped off
the shelf, flipped open and landed so that all the contents ended up on
the floor.
“Ah,!” thought I, “At least someone in this house shall enjoy this food.”
“Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, I called.
“Meow” came the reply.
“Come over here and help me clean up this mess” I said.
“Meow” came the response, from the other end of the kitchen, where his
treat bowl is located.
“Damn cat,” I muttered “If you think I’m going to pick this mess up,
just to put it in your bowl … Think again.”
“Meow” Came the response. “You want me to eat that from there? You must
have drunk more than tea with your meal.”
“I mean really, Cat! The minute the food splatted against the floor, any
self-respecting Labrador would have had its nose right there in the
remote possibility of something to eat. Moments later, the curry would
have been gone and all I’d have to do would be to mop up the slobber and
the odd rice grain. You’re less help than a republican senator on a
healthcare committee. Whatever happened to mutual aid and support?”
“Meow!”
So that’s it! My next pet shall be a dog. No more annoying meowing! No
more clawed furniture, no more gifts of regurgitated fur balls to be
discovered by bear feet in the morning. I’m done. Clean your own litter
box from now on. And don’t expect any treats in that bowl any time soon.